


C is for Cruel

by coolbyrne



Series: The Alphabet Series [3]
Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:34:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26365003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolbyrne/pseuds/coolbyrne
Summary: Life could be cruel, but she was sweet. Pre-Slibbs
Relationships: Jethro Gibbs/Jacqueline "Jack" Sloane
Series: The Alphabet Series [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1909126
Comments: 19
Kudos: 92





	C is for Cruel

**Author's Note:**

> I realized I don't have many stories that are set right near the beginning of her arrival; I always seem to write them at a certain distance from the beginning. Gibbs would have the pin because his dad was a pilot.

That life could be cruel wasn't anything new to him- he'd had enough loss to know all about it. But it could be cruel in the softest ways, too, as evidenced by the daily taste of sweetness that walked down the stairs from her office. Yesterday was a gray pinstriped suit that covered everything and yet still managed to give his pants fits. Today was a navy blue skirt that met her boots at the knee and an open-collared white shirt unbuttoned low enough to make his lips tingle. Such was the inexplicable pull she’d had on him since she had stormed into his life a month ago that he could probably catalogue nearly every outfit she had worn. He mentally head-slapped himself, forcing his eyes down even as his mind was zeroed in on her. 

"How goes the battle?" she asked brightly. 

Tim shook his head. "Five people put the suspect at the scene, but all five give different details."

"The prosecutor doesn't like that," Bishop said.

"Mmmm," Jack sympathized. "Eyewitnesses are the weak link in any case."

"I never got that," Nick said. "How hard is it to remember simple details? We can't even get 3 of the 5 to agree on the colour of the guy's jacket."

"The adrenaline of the moment does funny things to memory," Jack replied. "It's not that they don't want to remember things right, it's just that they can't. Too many other factors triggering neurons to hold it all together. A heightened situation, out of the normal everyday routine; the brain determines what's most important. That's usually survival, not recording. It's hard enough to remember things correctly on an average day, let alone an unusual one."

Nick wasn't having any of it. "It's not hard to notice the freaking colour of a jacket. I would've remembered."

Jack tilted her head back and forth. "Maybe. But you're also trained for those things. And I bet your recall isn't as good as you think."

He took it as the challenge it was intended, and even Gibbs looked up. "Twenty bucks says I could describe anything in this room." He circled his finger around their desks.

Gibbs' eyes went to Jack's pursed lips. "Okay. Close your eyes. All of you." She looked around at McGee, Bishop and Gibbs. "Go on. Let's see how you do." Intrigued, they followed her light order. "Okay. I'll call your name and you give me the answer to the question. Then you can open your eyes and see how close you were. Ready?" They all gave an affirmative reply. "Okay. We'll start with Nick. What shoes am I wearing today?"

_Oh, life could be cruel._

"Black Louboutins," Torres answered, the confidence seeping from his words.

Gibbs clenched his jaw to keep the words in. _That was yesterday._ He didn't know shoes, but he knew enough to recognize the red soles of the three inch heels. She always paired them up with gray.

Rather than give an affirmative or negative reply, she moved on to Tim by saying his name. Nick took that as his cue to open his eyes. He groaned at the discovery.

"That sounded like a wrong answer," McGee noted, "which is too bad, because that was going to be my answer." He paused to give it some thought. "I'm still pretty sure they're black. Black and white stripes?"

_Those go with the white pencil skirt._ He heard his own mental correction. _Jesus Christ, Gunny._

"Ellie? Don't let me down."

She laughed. "Dammit! They took my two answers. Okay. Three-quarter height black leather boots, zipped on the inside, square toe?" Bishop opened her eyes and Jack held her finger up to stop her reaction. 

"Funny how no one has described the same shoes," Jack noted. "So it's down to you, Special Agent Gibbs. Show me what you've got."

There was a playfulness in her voice that brought heat to his chest. Yes, life was cruel. Because how else could he explain how he found himself in this situation, caught between telling the truth and pretending a lie? To his audience, his closed eyes seemed like a parsement of his recall, not the hesitation he was feeling. 

To hell with it.

"Knee high brown leather boots, zipper at the back, 4 outside buckles, 3-inch square heel."

He opened his eyes, his soft blues meeting her warm browns. Though he wasn't looking at anyone but her, he could feel the stunned silence of his team. Her tongue came out to wet her bottom lip, and his eyes flicked down to her mouth, then to her knee-high brown leather boots, then back up again.

"Yeah, okay," Nick said, inadvertently, heroically, saving them both from their blushes. "But Gibbs doesn't count. He's not like everyone else." He glanced across the small space. "You know what I mean."

Finding her voice, Jack turned away from Gibbs and said, "That's kind of my point, Nick. Super powers aside, even the best of us aren't reliable eyewitnesses."

"S'why we need to follow the leads, not the witnesses." Gibbs looked at McGee. "Where we at on the credit cards?"

Jack held up a hand. "On that note, I'll leave you to it. Just wanted to see how everyone's day was going. If you need me, you know where to find me." 

The team said their goodbyes, and Gibbs realized the real intent behind her appearance- it was to give them all a much needed mental break, to surreptitiously force a rest before letting them jump back into the case. He was finding more and more reason to quietly appreciate her. She got halfway up the stairs when she leaned over the rail.

"Hey Cowboy?" He knew he would never not look up. "I owe you $20." She grinned and finished her trip back to her office.

Less than 5 minutes passed when his phone buzzed. Flipping it open, he squinted at the text.

_Black pants, gray striped jacket, sky blue polo that matches your eyes and a crisp white T-shirt. Not much different than most days, but you have a small airplane pin on your jacket today._

He smiled at her recollection.

_Maybe when you come up to collect your money you can tell me about it?_

He touched the pin that he wore on the day to remember his father's birthday. His head automatically lifted, his eyes finding her office door. The cruelness of life would compel him to take her up on her offer, to let her wind her way behind his walls and into his heart to leave a scar like all the others before her. But then he remembered her eyes, remembered the unguarded honesty behind them that told him of her own scars left behind by life's cruelty. Snapping the phone shut, he stood and wordlessly came around his desk and made his way to the stairs. He heard Nick say something about collecting a debt, but he wondered, at the end of it all, if he might not end up owing her, when all was said and done.

…..

-end.


End file.
